


No Better Time

by DrFunky



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, oops im shameless, transformers oc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24438385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrFunky/pseuds/DrFunky
Summary: No, it wasn’t champagne and roses, but as Jetstorm nibbled and pulled at his lower lip, Wing Ding couldn’t bring it in himself to care. There would be plenty of time for soft kisses by candlelight, tonight both of them were acting on the sexual tension that’s been on the brink of boiling over for weeks now.
Relationships: Jetstorm/OC, Wing Ding/Jetstorm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	No Better Time

**Author's Note:**

> Eve posted a fic not too long ago about Wing Ding and Jetstorm's first time interfacing, and now here's my own version of that. I've really come to adore this odd pairing, and this was actually a ton of fun to write! Thank you for this in-depth world you've created Eve, and for making me adore each and every character you add to it.
> 
> Wing Ding/This Entire AU belongs to Eve-Of-Halloween on tumblr, if you're here you've probably heard of her, and this was written with her consent.

_Well_ , Wing Ding thought to himself as one of Jetstorm’s servos grasped his aft, the other hiking his leg up onto his hip and pressing him into the metallic wall, _this isn’t_ exactly _how I pictured this going._

Wing Ding would _never_ admit it out loud, but he’d always thought his first time interfacing with his boyfriend would be a little more… romantic. He had pictured Jetstorm taking him out somewhere nice, maybe they’d fly around a bit in the twilight, and then they’d go to their little home away from home, and there’d be roses involved somewhere, and—ok, maybe he had seen one too many rom-coms, but that wasn’t the point. The point is he really didn’t think their first time taking things further would start with Jetstorm pinning him against the warehouse wall, pelvic plating grinding against his own, glossas intertwined, both of their EM fields thrumming with need. 

Actually, this wasn’t exactly the _start,_ not really. Something had been building between the two of them the last few weeks, a simmering heat that was now erupting like a geyser, and Wing Ding could only assume it had something to do with Jetstorm’s Decepticon coding becoming more active. They’d fooled around plenty of times before, but it was always makeout sessions behind locked doors, a slow exploration of each other in the privacy of Wing Ding’s habsuite. Now just a few days ago he caught Jetstorm openly staring at his aft when their trine was _supposed_ to be listening to Sentinel drone on about… something. Wing Ding shot him a _what in primus do you think you’re doing_ look, but Jetstorm only responded with a completely unapologetic grin before casually resting a servo on Wing Ding’s lower back, just out of Sentinel’s view. Wing Ding nearly squeaked at the unexpected contact, but made no move to object. His trine mates had grown taller recently, both of them now standing a few inches above Wing Ding, but they’d also grown _bolder,_ and for Jetstorm this new rebellious side really showed itself whenever they got intimate. Hornet very nearly caught them during one of their bump-and-grind sessions, Jetstorm mouthing at his neck in the hall outside his room, and Wing Ding would rather die than have her hold something like that over his head for the next few decades.

But other than that, Wing Ding couldn’t complain. He had actually been meaning to ask Jetstorm if he wanted to interface for a while now, but there just never seemed to be a good time to discuss it, something always pulling them away. It definitely wasn’t because Wing Ding was too nervous to bring up the topic first. Luckily, his boyfriend seemed to understand that he was ready, and they both finished their work as early as possible that day before hurriedly making their way to the warehouse, their little hideout.

No, it wasn’t champagne and roses, but as Jetstorm nibbled and pulled at his lower lip, Wing Ding couldn’t bring it in himself to care. There would be plenty of time for soft kisses by candlelight, tonight both of them were acting on the sexual tension that’s been on the brink of boiling over for weeks now.

Jetstorm licked at his lips before pulling back slightly, looking down at Wing Ding with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “You are wanting this, yes?”

Wing Ding took a moment to process the question, then rolled his optics. “Do you really need me to say it?” He grabbed the back of Jetstorm’s neck and gave a roll of his hips for emphasis. He was really hoping that would be enough to get the message across, and as the servo on his aft tightened considerably, he thought he had won.

“Please love, I need you to say it.” Wing Ding melted a bit at that, and leaned his helm back against the wall before looking back into Jetstorm’s visor.

“Really, Stormy, you haven’t been able to keep your servos off me for weeks now, and now you wanna try and be chivalrous?” Jetstorm didn’t respond, waiting for a definite answer before continuing, and Wing Ding let out a sigh. “Alright, alright. Jetstorm, will you _please_ frag me in this musty warehouse tonight?”

Jetstorm stared at Wing Ding for another moment or two, searching for anything that might betray his words, only finding an adorably flushed face and an openly wanting EM field. Then a grin lit up his faceplates, and he dove down to suck on Wing Ding’s neck cables.

Wing Ding vented harshly as his engines whined, the air around them heating up just a bit more. He gripped the back of Jetstorm’s helm while tilting his own back against the wall, giving as much access as he could, and tightened his leg around Jetstorm’s hip to grind against his paneling. Jetstorm gave a low growl at that, biting hard at the junction between his neck and shoulder, and he felt Jetstorm’s servo leave his aft to explore between his legs, cupping his modesty paneling before bringing his mouth next to Wing Ding’s audial.

“Will you open for me, Dingy? I promise I will be taking care of you.” Jetstorm said, pressing a kiss to his temple, and Wing Ding returned a kiss to his cheek before snapping back his modesty paneling.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Jetstorm pecked Wing Ding on the lips before working his way downwards, leaving wet kisses down his neck and chassis, a clawed digit circling around his valve entrance all the meanwhile. He knelt down and moved Wing Ding’s leg so it was draped over his shoulder, taking note of the red and pink biolights against the soft black mesh of his valve. He looked back up at Wing Ding and leaned in to slowly drag his glossa across his anterior node, flicking it with the tip, and Wing Ding choked on a moan, shuddering, determined not to overload immediately. He’s been waiting for this for so long, and dammit he wasn’t about to let _one lick_ —

But then Jetstorm put his whole mouth around his anterior node and sucked, and Wing Ding could only give out a loud cry and try to grasp at the wall behind him as his whole frame shook from the overload wracking through his frame, valve clenching around nothing, wings jutting out and shivering. It took Wing Ding a click to come back down to Earth and realize he was panting up at the ceiling, and when he looked back down he noticed Jetstorm smiling back up at him, some of Wing Ding’s fluids on his chin, and he wasn’t sure whether to find the sight hot or kinda gross.

His thighs were also shaking still, and he came to the conclusion that the only reason he was still upright was because Jetstorm was _holding_ him up. When did his boyfriend get so strong?!

“My love, I did not expect for you to be finishing quite so soon. You have not even had a digit yet, and we are to be going home?” Jetstorm teased.

“Wh-who said anything about… about being finished?” Wing Ding got out between heavy breaths. “Keep going, I-I can take it.” Already he could feel the heat building back up, could feel lubricant dripping down his thighs.

“If my love is sure, then we will be continuing this somewhere else. Perhaps lying down so you do not collapse maybe.”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted me against the wa-oah!” Wing Ding was cut off as Jetstorm swiftly stood up and lifted him off the ground, carrying him bridal-styler over to their makeshift berth. Wing Ding didn’t even have enough time to process the embarrassment before Jetstorm laid him down, moving over top of him and giving another short but deep kiss which Wing Ding tried to return, but then Jetstorm was again maneuvering himself down his body. He pushed Ding’s thighs up, and Wing Ding got the hint, holding his own legs apart for whatever Jetstorm was about to do next. 

Jetstorm took a minute to appreciate the sight before him. His feisty little Wing Ding, spreading himself before him, and Jetstorm purred, running his claws gently down his beloved’s chassis before bringing his mouth back to Wing Ding’s valve. He gave his anterior node a kiss, making Wing Ding shudder and buck his hips, before carefully pressing a digit against his valve entrance. This next part was going to take some finesse, lest he accidentally puncture something.

Wing Ding slowly inhaled as he felt a digit enter his valve, immediately pushing against nodes and calipers that had him moaning, his servos tightly gripping his own thighs. He did _not_ remember Jetstorm’s servos being that big, and now he could only imagine what the size of his spike must be. Not like he hadn’t asked himself that question before…

A gentle rhythm was started, Jetstorm keeping his optics on Wing Ding’s face, looking for any signs of pain or displeasure, before putting in a second digit in with the first. Wing Ding gasped and groaned, only slightly uncomfortable as Jetstorm scissored his digits in his valve. Jetstorm noticed and immediately stilled, and when Wing Ding looked down he recognized concern on Jetstorm’s face.

“W-Why did you…?”

“Am I hurting you, Dingy? I can sto—”

“Holy _Primus_ Stormy, I love you, but if you stop doing whatever it is you’re doing I am going to _lose my processor._ I promise to tell you if it ever gets to be ‘too much’ or whatever, but if you don’t frag me now I might actually leave you!” He didn’t really mean that, and they both knew it, but the desperation was real. 

The concern left Jetstorm’s face as he chuckled. “If you are saying so.”

Despite Wing Ding’s “threat”, Jetstorm continued to stretch his valve with his digits, but made it up to him by adding a third and quickening his tempo.

“Oh—Primus!” Wing Ding shouted, throwing his head back and arching off the berth.

“You are saying the wrong name, Wing Ding.” Jetstorm joked with that _fragging_ grin.

“You b-better—ah! Better p-put that mouth to better _use!_ ” Wing Ding’s smart comment ended in a whine as he bucked his hips against the servos stretching him wide, claws pricking _exquisitely_ at nodes further in the back. 

Jetstorm complied, dragging his glossa from Wing Ding’s valve to his port, continuing up his chassis until he got to his mouth, kissing him with a sense of urgency. Jetstorm propped an arm next to his helm as he continued to quickly thrust his digits in. Wing Ding finally let go of his thighs to hold the sides of Jetstorm’s face, only breaking the kiss to gasp or moan before bringing their mouths back together.

Wing Ding felt a pressure building, tension coiling in his pistons, and he pulled away.

“S-Stormy, I-I’m close—again! I’m going to—I can’t!” Jetstorm seemed to understand his blabbering, promptly removing his servo from between Wing Ding’s legs, and Wing Ding briefly considered smacking him as he got his breathing under control.

“I will launch your sweet aft off this berth right now, what do you think you’re—” Then Wing Ding heard a _click,_ and looked down to find Jetstorm’s spike between them, silver with beautiful cyan biolights, and Wing Ding’s engines stalled for a moment. “Oh.” 

Maybe it was a good thing Jetstorm prepared him so thoroughly. 

“You are liking what you are seeing?” Came Jetstorm’s light-hearted tone, and Wing Ding was snapped out of his trance. Rather than dignifying that with a response, he braced his pedes on the berth and raised his hips, biting his lip and staring into Jetstorm’s visor as he dragged his valve up the length, not caring if he looked stupid rather than seductive.

Jetstorm hissed and clenched his denta, his claws digging into the berth on either side of Wing Ding’s helm, and it was Wing Ding’s turn to smirk. Serves the fragger right.

Jetstorm lowered his hips, maneuvering them so his spike lined up with Wing Ding’s valve entrance, and Wing Ding took a deep breath, hooking his legs back around Jetstorm’s waist. He stared at where their pelvises met, eager for this all to finally come to a head, but Jetstorm seemed to be taking his time and savoring the moment, as he wasn’t pushing in. There was a soft _shick,_ and Wing Ding looked back up at Jetstorm, an audible gasp leaving his intake as he was met not with the visor so frequently obscuring his boyfriends face, but with two bright cyan optics staring back at him with an intensity that had Wing Ding frozen in place. Yes, he had seen Jetstorm without his visor plenty of times in the past, but never like this. Never with this expression, optics hooded with lust and mouth just a bit parted, and Wing Ding could only think that somehow he had managed to nab one of the most beautiful mechs in the galaxy. 

Forgetting where he was and what he was doing, Wing Ding lifted a servo and gently placed it on Jetstorm’s cheek, letting his thumb lightly trace the area under his optic. Jetstorm gave an approving hum, bringing his own servo up to cup Wing Ding’s, and finally broke eye contact to turn his head to kiss the inside of his palm. Wing Ding felt his spark swell, some voice in the back of his processor telling him he was gonna get conjunxed with this mech one day, but he put that thought on hold for another time, choosing instead to throw his arms around Jetstorm’s neck and pull him down for a proper kiss. The pace was slow, but thorough and deep, Wing Ding doing his best to pour all of his unspoken love and adoration into it. Jetstorm sighed into the kiss, cupping the back of Wing Ding’s helm, and then he finally started easing his spike into Wing Ding’s valve. 

Wing Ding immediately threw his head back and bit hard on his lower lip, optics shut tight as he tried his best to quickly adjust to this foreign but _amazing_ feeling. _Why_ hadn’t they done this sooner?

Still holding onto Jetstorm, Wing Ding focused on keeping his breathing even while Jetstorm pushed in, feeling his valve stretch to accommodate each inch. It wasn’t until he heard Jetstorm give a shaky exhale that he looked down to see that he had finally managed to take all of Jetstorm’s spike. Wing Ding huffed out a laugh, about to brag, when he realized he could hear Jetstorm softly panting by his audial. He felt the shaky grip Jetstorm still had on the back of his helm despite the stillness of his hips, and it finally hit Wing Ding that Jetstorm was desperately trying not to move to give Wing Ding time to adjust. Struck with that thought, Wing Ding wiggled his hips and clenched his legs, fumbling with his words for a second.

“B-Babe, you have to _move_. Stop holding back!” Jetstorm didn’t say anything in response, merely nodding before pulling out almost all the way before quickly thrusting back in, both of them crying out as Jetstorm’s spike hit Wing Ding’s ceiling nodes. Wing Ding was still reeling when Jetstorm repeated the motion, starting a hurried tempo that his processor could barely keep up with. 

Wing Ding was grasping at Jetstorm’s back and shoulders, thighs still clenched tight around his waist, and there was simply no stopping the babbling coming out of his mouth. He was begging without words, singing his lovers praises, not bothering to try and stay quiet, and Jetstorm wasn’t fairing much better, burying his face in Wing Ding’s shoulder and leaving kisses and bites in the area, each nibble causing Wing Ding to clench his valve and yelp. 

They held each other as close as they possibly could, anchored to each other, the sounds coming out of their mouths mixing in with the positively obscene noises coming from their love-making, and Wing Ding wasn’t surprised when he felt the tension building in his lower half again. He chased after it, bucking and grinding himself against Jetstorm’s spike at a feverish pace, and he felt a surge of pride at the whimpers and moans he caused to come out of his lover. But Primus he was _right there_ , he just needed a little extra _push—_

“Stormy—frag, p-please I’m so close—”

“Me too, love, I am—almost _—_!” 

Jetstorm then moved a servo down to Wing Ding’s array, and quickly rubbed two digits against his anterior node, and the resulting overload caused a sob to make its way out of Wing Ding as he thrashed against Jetstorm, digits digging into his back and calipers clenching tight as the ecstasy rippled throughout his frame. Jetstorm himself had stopped moving and was breathing hard, and it was then that Wing Ding felt something unnaturally warm in his valve.

“Wait, Stormy, did you…?” Wing Ding got out between breaths, a little disbelieving.

“Not sure if I am liking your tone, Wing Ding.” 

“Well, I just thought, you know, how did you word it? ‘I did not expect for you to be finishing quite so soon’?” Jetstorm hit him hard in the aft for that joke, but it was worth it. Jetstorm took his time pulling out, and Wing Ding groaned at the empty feeling that followed. Jetstorm sat up on his knees, modesty panel back in place, and eyed Wing Ding from top to bottom, a grin lighting up his face.

“You are looking quite the mess, love. How exactly are you planning the cleaning up?” Wing Ding sat up then and took a good look at himself, a blush forming when he realized his valve, both their inner thighs, and even some of the berth beneath them were splattered with lubricant. He was sure he had plenty of marks on his neck cables, and probably even a dent or two in his helm, not to mention the blue paint that Jetstorm had rubbed off on him. 

“It’s uh, not that big a deal, just pass me a towel or something.”

“We did not bring any.”

“Wha—we didn’t?”

“Nope! And the paint we left on Sentinel Prime’s ship,” Jetstorm quipped helpfully.

“Oh, cool! So we just have to sneak on board, get to the washrooms, find a buffer, then get back to your room and paint ourselves without anyone spotting us?” 

“Mm! And I’ll be betting you 5 Shanix you will be getting us caught.”

“Oh you’re on, I’ll bet 10 Shanix that it’s specifically Sentinel who spots the scratches on your back.”

“You are sounding so sure, Dingy. Are you being certain you _want_ that to happen?”

“With our luck? It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Plus I kinda wanna see his reaction, can you imagine?”

“Imagine us being expelled and sent back to Cybertron? Yes Dingy, quite vividly!”

They looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing, helms leaning forward so they were resting on each other's shoulders, and Wing Ding felt his spark swell again, heard that voice in the back of his processor again, and as he and Jetstorm gently embraced each other, Wing Ding couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you, Jetstorm. You’ve got no idea how much.” 

Jetstorm leaned back a bit, just enough to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, before pressing their cheeks together.

“I love you too Wing Ding. And I do think I have an idea.” 

Jetstorm put a servo over top of Wing Ding’s chassis, right above his spark chamber, and Wing Ding was almost certain that their sparks were thrumming in tandem. 


End file.
